[ He can't tell if she doesn't speak because she can't, or won't, but it doesn't bother him. Opal, after all, is a girl of very few words, and it's definitely one of Ronan's favorite things about her.
The tool she uses could have come straight from one of Ronan's dreams, and he commits it to memory, wondering if he could recreate it, put his own twist on it. He crouches close to it, licking his lips as he asks (since she obviously can understand him), a hand open. ]
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The tool she uses could have come straight from one of Ronan's dreams, and he commits it to memory, wondering if he could recreate it, put his own twist on it. He crouches close to it, licking his lips as he asks (since she obviously can understand him), a hand open. ]
Can I? I'll just look for a second.